Poetry: Issue 1

Well-Read
by Debbie Stampfli

Behind your cover
You’ve been read more than once
With fingerprints and signatures
Of those who once knew your plot,
And memorized lines
Of meaning(At the time).
And bent down corners
To save their places.
With highlights and coffee stains,
And pencil shavings,
And cigarette burns
That fade the pages.
While the outside
Looks as though it’s been dropped
Into a puddle,
Or even a river.
But he paid anyway,
And gave his money at the register,
And counted his change,
Carefully;
So he wouldn’t be taken.
But when he carries you home
In the plastic white sack,
And reads the beginning,
And finishes a chapter,
He’ll realize:
It was never that interesting,
Not even worth it.
And will proceed
To throw you out.

Escaped
by Allegra Weaver

It looked impossible to them,
The fire blazed and licked the hem
Of woolen cloak and gown worn thin,
And then its whiplash reached the skin
Of praying mother, father grim
With one accord they sang a hymn,
While tongues of fire leapt and flared,
Amidst the wild crowd’s hungered stares.
The flames engulfed the hands, the face,
As Death came on at quickened pace
To seize his prey, secure his store
Of souls to feast on evermore.
But while at last their bodies burned,
To dust and ashes, roundly spurned
By those who gazed in open mirth,
Their souls enjoyed a living birth.